


;tremble so swiftly all of those days

by luciferesque



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 19:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferesque/pseuds/luciferesque





	;tremble so swiftly all of those days

The Hissing Wastes are unforgiving and test the mettle of even the most seasoned warriors. Zaida is not a seasoned warrior – she is a mage with a muscular rheumatism that has plagued her since youth – and this terrain does her no favors.

She can feel the sun’s heat on her skin from the day of hiking through the dunes and over dwarf-carved cliffs, feel the ache in between her shoulders and down her spine, into her thighs and feet.

She should be used to it, would be, were she an elf of average health. But she is not and has never been. Her body fights against her as if waging war, and coupled with the irritation of the Mark, she flags after even just a few miles. She feels guilty for it, that they have to stop and rest so soon and so often, but no one says anything contrary to her, despite what she may think.

On this particular night, they have fought through slavers, varghests, and lurkers while trekking through the sandy dunes and the collective weight of their adventuring has weighed Zaida down through the floor. She takes deep breaths, tries to steady herself as Cassandra tends the fire, but it’s difficult and she wheezes with the strain.

“Go, sit,” she tells her, and Zaida grimaces a little before accepting the command.

She crawls through the mouth of their tent and sits inside, trying her best to breathe through the burning in her back and knees. It’s a flare, she knows it, and knows that she caused it through too much running and fighting, but it can’t be helped. She’s the Inquisitor, after all.

Cassandra sighs something heavy, and follows Zaida into their tent, holding a tin cup full of an aromatic froth, blood red and thick.

“You didn’t have to do that – I know the smell burns shemlen eyes,” Zaida murmurs, taking the cup in her hands.

The warmth of it soothes the ache in her hands and she takes a tentative sip, gauging the heat with her lips. It’s sweet and creamy, brewed from the leftover cane she had in her pack. A rare treat, but one that would calm the fire in her muscles.

“I didn’t, no. But I _wanted_ to,” Cassandra tells her, sliding a hand under her hair to rub at Zaida’s neck. 

The pressure is divine, just enough to release the tension without triggering a spasm of pain. Cass had gotten the hang of how and where to touch Zaida, how to ease the tenderness with just the palms of her hands.

Zaida takes a long swig, savoring the sweetness as the heat rushes down to her core. She likes this, she thinks, despite the pain; sitting here with Cass among a flurry of pillows, with a hot drink on a cold night. Another swig and the bleeding cane tea is gone, and Zaida can feel her hands working lower down her spine to her hips.

Her breath hitches then, snags on the way out of her mouth, and Cassandra’s hands still a moment before sliding slowly forward to unhook the pauldrons on Zaida’s shoulders.

“You need to be more gentle with yourself,” Cassandra sighs, dropping the armor off to the side. It sinks deep into their pillows and Zaida watches it from the corner of her eye as Cassandra undoes her tassets and sets them aside as well.

“Says she who single-handedly skewered a varghest, almost breaking her hand?” Zaida chirps, leaning into Cassandra’s touch.

It’s easy like this, the two of them. They have nothing to consider, no Chantry or laws of the People, no Inquisition or Corypheus. It’s just them and what nimble fingers can do.

“ _Almost_ is the operative word, my love.”

And, Void take her, does she melt when she hears those words.

They slot together, the bracket of Cassandra a perfect curve against Zaida’s body. The bleeding cane is doing its work, relieving her muscles of strain and inflammation, and Zaida sighs at the relief, lashes fluttering as Cass peels the linen tunic off her stomach and over her head.

There’s a kiss on the back of her neck, and then another behind her ear as hands rush over the planes of her stomach and across her breasts.

“Come close to me,” Cassandra asks.

Zaida obliges.

She turns and pushes into Cassandra’s arms and sighs a kiss against her lips, something soft and still, and then again, but eager.

It’s a fumble to get Cassandra’s armor off quickly enough, and Zaida can feel the want pounding in her gut, a pulse that beats and ties her body together in an unflattering knot.

“Kiss me,” she says and Cassandra wastes no time.

Their lips crash together, teeth clanging as Zaida pushes her fingers through Cassandra’s tunic and down into her travel-worn leathers, intent on undoing. Cassandra falls back against the their bedrolls, eyes searching Zaida in the dim light.

Zaida works the knots open and in one solid, rough tug, frees her of her bottoms. She can feel the breath leave her all in one go, seeing Cassandra’s body free of its trappings. Her flanks solid and scarred, the sharp spurs of her hips, the curve of her thighs. 

Even by firelight, her gaze is unmistakable. She wants, as Zaida does.

Zaida hums a smile and leans forward, placing a kiss above her navel, and once again at her mound before dipping her head low and tonguing her open softly.

Cassandra stills, breath caught somewhere in her throat, before suddenly relaxing into Zaida’s touch. They practiced this often, but it never failed to shock them the reactions they could pull from each other.

She shifts, laying chest-flat between Cassandra’s thighs, tongue laving over her folds and against her pearl. It takes very little to pull a shudder from Cassandra, their weeks of abstinence only serving to heighten her need.

She bites down, aborting a moan threatening to tumble from her lips and Zaida takes that as praise for a job well done.

“You know Sera’s never going to let you live this down,” Zaida smiles from between Cassandra’s legs.

Cassandra scoffs, shaking her head wearily.

“That is why we never take her anywhere, isn’t it?”

Zaida laughs and crawls up Cassandra’s torso, to settle by her side among the pillows.

“Satisfied?” she asks.

“Utterly,” Cassandra confesses, wrapping an arm around Zaida to pull her close.

The tent settles and all is quiet for a moment.

“Without warning, as a whirlwind swoops on an oak, love shakes my heart,” Zaida whispers, tangling a hand through Cassandra’s hair.

She presses a kiss against the shell of her ear and looks up gently, eyes shining in the dark.

“Poetry?” Cassandra laughs, but her cheeks color as a young girl’s might.

“For you? Anything.”


End file.
